


Full Fathom Fine

by Aris Merquoni (ArisTGD)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cock & Ball Torture, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Eggpreg, Enemas, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fisting, M/M, Multi, Other: See Story Notes, Oviposition, Power Imbalance, Pregnancy Kink, Size Kink, Undernegotiated Kink, Urethral Play, undernegotiated sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 08:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArisTGD/pseuds/Aris%20Merquoni
Summary: Ben Obie was a normal sailor in the king's navy, until the day the mermaid spotted him. After learning too late about the mating practices of merfolk, he's taken in by the local earl, who has ideas of his own for the innocent sailor and his developing situation.





	Full Fathom Fine

**Author's Note:**

> The consent in this story is of the variety that only works out well in pornography: nonexistent beforehand and only vaguely cared about in the moment. In the end, everyone has a good time.
> 
> In addition, this story contains some watersports, descriptions of in-universe-fictional depictions of bestiality, and some magic making impossible things possible. Don't try this at home without first looking up how best to do something safely.

Biruelle saw the sailor when he dipped beneath the water to examine his vessel. He was clumsy in the water, strange reedy fingers grasping like claws and thrashing lower arms unable to get purchase on the currents. But his skin was ruddy with health and his form, oh, it was perfect, it made her want to wrap her tail around him and hold him forever close to her skin. He'd be warm, she knew, they were all warm from the surface, sun-warm, and her fins twitched with the thought of him.

The humans were cautious around her people, but she wasn't so frightening, surely? Surely he'd consider... if she asked politely?

She made lazy circles around him, watching him bob along and pat the side of his boat, until finally he saw her and his eyes went wide. Bubbles slipped from his mouth and he thrashed his way to the surface.

Biruelle swam slowly closer until he came underwater again, peering at her. She floated, far enough that she could dart away, close enough to make her interest plain.

He gestured at her, several times, before she understood what he was asking. Then she felt foolish. The humans couldn't speak underwater, of course.

The air was full of whispers when she put her head above water, but in the roaring tumult she could make out the sailor's voice. "You're a mermaid!"

"My name is Biruelle," she said, though the sky change the syllables in her mouth. "What is yours?"

"Obie. Ben Obie. I never thought I'd see the day!" He was still staring at her, his mouth gaping like a feeding whale, his hair slicked against his head. He was the colors of kelp and sand, browns and shadow-blacks, and she wanted to nuzzle her face into his mane and taste the back of his neck.

She held out her hand and he gasped. "You are beautiful," she said. "Will you come with me?"

"Beautiful?" He looked stunned. "Not me, ma'am, you have me wrong, I'm not one of the pretty ones, I'm plain as any two men and maybe as any three, you're the one who's a picture."

She didn't have the words that humans had, didn't know how to counter his protests. Instead she swam closer and held out her other hand as well. "Please?"

Still looking as though he wasn't breathing or eating fast enough, he reached out his hands and took hers, and they were warm, warm like the sun overhead and the deep caves in the ocean below. She wrapped her tail around his warmth and he gasped, air pressing his flesh into hers, and oh he was perfect, he felt perfect in her rippling grasp, his flesh was just the right softness under her, giving just enough before the inner core of his swimming muscles. Perfect human, warm and soft and just right.

She put her mouth over his and breathed him the gift, and then she led him down under the waves.

* * *

Ben Obie had never been a superstitious man, but being dragged along by the mermaid he started thinking of all the times people had told him that mermaids, like anything else out of the ocean, were terrible luck. He'd been warned many times that he should never follow a mermaid unless--unless what? It didn't help that the men in the king's service were most like him, lubbers before they'd been pressed and who had never seen water wider than a puddle of their own piss, and those who were willing to talk about mermaids and all the other things you could find at sea were tired of being shushed by sensible men who'd never left solid earth, and thus would only reveal their knowledge after everyone at the table had several pints inside of them. It made that advice hard to remember, Ben realized. Mostly he remembered a sense of dire forboding and a hangover like the inside of a cannon bore.

But the mermaid, Biruelle, name like a song and scales like moonlight and skin like an ocean swell and a face like--Ben was running out of metaphors and scrambling--face like a porcelain doll, she'd put her cold lips on his and kissed him, and just like that he hadn't minded the water. Hadn't minded it so much that now he was breathing it, just like he had scales himself, and though he still couldn't swim all that well she was pulling him along deeper now and he could still see, a little bit, enough that he wasn't scared.

Until they got down to a pretty little coral garden, with ocean stars and spiny balls and kelp all in a row, and the mermaid called, "Husband!"

And then Ben started to get really worried.

There was a dim shape moving through the water, and it moved fast. It zipped past behind him so close he could feel the rush of the waves, and then there were two mermaids--only, the second one wasn't a maid by any stretch. Biruelle had a pointed chin and a dimpled navel and two soft pillowlike breasts in between; this fellow had a pointed beard the same blue-black as his hair, and was all over bulk, like a cross between a sea lion and a man.

"I, uh, I'm sorry, Biruelle," Ben said, "I think I misunderstood something."

Biruelle wasn't paying attention to him. "Isn't he perfect?"

Her husband--was that right? Husband? She'd called him a husband--nuzzled up to her and kissed the back of her neck. "If you are happy with him, he is perfect," he said in a voice like storm-rumbling on the horizon.

"Uh," Ben said.

Biruelle was looking right at him, and he hadn't noticed while they were up in the air, but her eyes weren't quite--well, they weren't quite human, and now they were not quite human and hungry, and her teeth were pointy like a fish. "I want him," she said. "I want him _now."_

Ben was not sure that was actually what he wanted to hear. His body couldn't make up its mind either, caught between paralyzing fear and any more welcome sensation.

"Yes, darling," the merman said, and then in another too-fast blur of fins and muscle, he was gone.

And then Ben felt arms wrap around him from behind, and he realized where the merman had gone _to._

"What," he said, panic sinking in, as he started thrashing. But then that coily, sea-dragon tail wrapped around his legs, immobilizing him, as the solid bulk of Biruelle's husband pressed against his back and massive arms wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides.

"Nnn," Ben tried to protest, terrified, certain at any moment that Biruelle would swoop down, those elegant flippers revealing claws and those sharp fishy teeth bared to his flesh. He regretted everything. He regretted thinking that a pretty face and a heaving bosom necessarily indicated a warmth of fellow-feeling, letting his head get turned by talk of his beauty like some tavern girl or cabin boy or--

Something warm and solid, like an arm or an eel, pushed down the back of his trousers. Ben thrashed in surprise, then twitched again when he felt the eel-thing pull itself upwards to the curve of his buttocks. He couldn't figure out what kind of inquisitive fish was probing along his arse until with a chill he finally remembered the content of one of those warnings.

"Don't ever think you're going to fuck a mermaid," the older sailor had said. "They may look like pretty girls, they may have pretty faces and pretty tits, but they're fucking fish! They don't fuck the same way we do! You try going after a mermaid, let me tell you, you're the one that's going to get fucked!"

Oh, Ben thought as the fleshy invader pushed against his arsehole, I didn't realize he meant that literally.

The wriggling, tentacle-like object was blunt at the tip and the size of his fist across, but it was slippery at the tip, and it writhed against him until it was nestled in the right spot. And then it went to work pushing at him, stretching his arse open a bit at a time. Every time Ben thought he couldn't bear it the tentacle would pull back until the throbbing eased, gyrating slowly against his hole to keep his muscles warm and keep him from closing off entirely.

Ben whimpered and shut his eyes and tried with all his limited leverage to push it out, but somehow that just made it sink in _more,_ working against his intentions. The more he pushed the deeper it forced, sliding inexorably, his hole stretching wider and wider until he was certain he couldn't bear it.

And then with something that felt like a pop, the head was inside him, and he felt the satisfied moan of the merman against his back. Ben shuddered as the merman's dick drove deeper and deeper, sliding easier now that his body had given up all resistance, until it felt like he'd taken a man's arm to the elbow. His gut was straining around the tube of flesh as it continued to press inside him, until it knocked into something painful that made him gasp.

Surely that was the end of it, surely that was as big as any dick had any right to be. Surely now the merman could be satisfied in fucking him, get himself off, and have a laugh with his lady-love about the human they'd suckered down to their den.

But just like at the entrance to his body the merman started twisting his dick around inside Ben's body, and Ben could feel it squirming within him, undulating and pressing against the pleasure-point at the backside of his own dick. And he didn't have the giant sea eel in his trousers that the merman had, but the full hard length of it was now pinned against his leg by the merman's tail, and it didn't feel half bad when the merman shifted his tail along it.

The merman. Ben leaned his head back, panting, trying to breathe around the pinching, probing inside of him. "Hey... hey there," he said.

"Mmm," the merman said. "She is right, you are doing well."

"Uh... thanks," Ben said, wincing again as the merman fucked into the painful spot. "Ow. Could you pull back, a bit? Please?"

"It is necessary," the merman said. "Do not worry, I have done this before. Humans can stretch here."

The twisting pain got worse as the merman's dick inched forward again. "Ow, owwwww... ah, ow, hey, you're, uh, you're fucking me--"

"Yes," the merman said. "I am preparing you."

That didn't even register. "But I, uh, I don't know your name?"

There was a sudden reprieve, relief, as the merman drew back slightly and Ben's guts relaxed. There was a shuddering behind him, and after a moment Ben realized the merman was _laughing._ "I am Lirube."

"Ha. Hi, Lirube. I'm Ben." Ben tried squeezing himself around the massive snake in his guts, just to be friendly, and he felt it twitch inside him. Without the pain it wasn't half bad. "Mmmm. Ah. Slow up a bit? Please?"

"Hmmmm." Lirube's dick pressed forward again, but gentler, less urgently. It still hurt when it pressed too far, but there were pauses between attempts where the pain would leave off. "You are right, wife, this one is perfect."

Ben felt slightly dizzy with the praise, and then something _gave_ inside of him and Lirube grunted in satisfaction as, no longer painful, no longer prevented, inches upon inches further of cock slid into Ben's body. He was beyond full. He was stuffed. He was being stretched and probed as he'd never imagined possible. He still couldn't move his arms, clenched in Lirube's embrace, but he could press one of his hands against his belly and feel the twitching movement as Lirube snaked his cock deeper and deeper inside him.

"Fuuck," Ben said as he felt the girth widen at his opening, stretching him wide again, "How long is that weapon of yours? I don't think I have any guts left."

"As long as it needs to be," Lirube said. "I must be able to plant my seed deep enough within you that it will not get washed away by Biruelle."

Ben shook his head. There was something here he didn't understand, but it was hard to concentrate as Lirube's dick seemed to twist again inside him and curl around itself, and his arse was yawning open again, and he didn't even know if the merman was breathing hard, it just kept going and going.

Finally Lirube stopped, and his whole body undulated against Ben's. "There," he said, and dropped one of his finny hands to rest over Ben's on his stomach. "Ahh, there."

Ben whimpered. Lirube didn't thrust. He wriggled. He twisted. He even seemed to throb. Ben was full of wonderful and disquieting sensations, clutching his stomach and feeling the muscles of his guts spasm and dance around this invader, feeling the iron rod of his dick rub raw between his leg and the merman's tail.

Finally Lirube gasped, "Yes, this," and shuddered against him. Ben tried to feel--something, something different, but he couldn't. Lirube started pulling out, scraping his insides and leaving those deep parts of him feeling weirdly empty, and every few seconds the merman would clutch at him and hiss and then nuzzle at his hair.

It took ages, eons, but finally Lirube pulled the rest of the way out of him, and Ben sighed, wincing a bit at the soreness in his arse when he tried to move a little bit.

Suddenly Biruelle was in front of him, hungry eyes wide and her soft-finned fingers splayed against his stomach. "My turn, now," she said.

Ben couldn't help grinning. "Oh. Oh yeah," he said, as Lirube released him. He kicked his legs a bit, letting feeling come back to them, letting his hard-on bob northward in his pants as the water buoyed him up. "I don't mind saying, I didn't really expect that, but it wasn't so bad considering--"

Quick as a flash Biruelle's tail was wrapped around his legs again. This time he was only wrapped up below his knees, though, as Biruelle pulled at the drawstring of his trousers. Eagerly, he helped her, pushing the fabric off his hips and down past his cock. She reached for his bobbing manhood, wrapping her finny fingers around it, and her skin was soft and smooth as any lady, only slightly cooler than the water. "It is sad," she said prettily, "that you will not seed a clutch of your own. Maybe your seed will find one on the current?"

"I, uh," Ben said. "What?"

She maneuvered around him by her grip on his legs and his cock, and then he again found himself with a merperson at his back and unable to move much at all. She stroked him and he grunted, confused, until he again felt something pressing suspiciously at his arse.

Clutch, she'd said. Finally his brain supplied, eggs.

Oh no--

Whatever she had to lay them with was warm and slid inside his sore arse with no trouble, slipping up the trail her husband had blazed with a softness that he could barely feel. But he felt the first egg as it squeezed up that tube and into him, pushing past his sphincter with a stretch that made him cry out. It was big enough he was grateful to Lirube's cock for breaking him in. The egg bumped along inside him until it was joined by a second. And then a third. And a fourth.

Ben moaned as a fifth and a sixth egg were pushed into his guts, forcing the earlier ones deeper. The next egg nearly got stuck until with a push of her hips Biruelle forced the whole line of them up, the first two slipping past that pinch point that Lirube had opened. After that, they started going in easier. Ben leaned his head back and sighed as the rhythm continued. A stretch in his arse as the egg pushed through the ring of muscle. Relief, and then pressure as his lower guts were crowded. A sigh as the earlier eggs resettled themselves inside him, shifting further and further into him. Repeat. He lost count of the eggs, only felt the bumps shift and settle under his fingers.

Biruelle didn't pin his arms down. She didn't need to. She cradled his cock and as egg after egg slid into his body his prick twitched in her fins.

When finally an egg slid into him and then no more followed, Biruelle sighed dreamily and kissed the back of his neck, then stroked his cock until the pressure in his body seemed to coil like a spring and finally explode out the head of his dick in a spray of semen. His whole body shook and he felt the shift and roll of--how many? Ten? A dozen?--the eggs inside his guts.

He hadn't lost track of how many there were until after six, he knew, but surely there weren't too many more than that.

Biruelle withdrew from his body and unwrapped his legs, and Ben looked down to see what visible damage had been done. He sighed in relief--he'd acquired a certain plumpness under his shirt, a rounder belly than he'd had that morning, but nothing obviously unnatural. He pressed his hand over the swell of his stomach and could feel the individual curves of the eggshells, and groaned.

"Perfect," Biruelle said, wrapping her tail around her husband's.

What the hell was he going to do?

* * *

Biruelle did not return Ben to his ship. She brought him to the docks at Lendenwell Town, and he crawled onto them like a beached seal and gasped for air. It tasted funny after the salt-tingle of water down below and he was cold, very cold, as the wind whipped off the bay and into his wet clothing, but he didn't want to move.

Finally he forced himself to his feet and staggered into town. Passersby gave him a wide berth, what with seawater still streaming from his hair, and his awkward lurching gait as he tried to account for the strange _mass_ inside him. Masses.

Eggs. Mermaid eggs.

He found his way to the Stars and Anchor and stumbled over to the fire. It was closing in on autumn and the fire was roaring comfort after the chill of outside, but it was early yet for the men to be in from the boats and he had a bench all to himself. He sat and shivered and let salt prickle on his skin as he dried and slowly the noise of the public room started to penetrate his brain.

He looked around. There were a few stares, but not many--those who were eating at this time of day liked their privacy. But Daniel the publican was walking towards him, wiping a tankard clean as he moved and eyeing Ben appraisingly.

"Thought the Zephyr was out all day," Daniel said.

Ben sniffed salt into his sinuses and coughed. "I, uh," he said. "We were, I went over to check for scale, and. Well, I got waylaid."

"Waylaid?"

Ben shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it." A pang in his chest, matching the lurch in his guts. "Oh, saints, I'm going to be hung for a deserter."

Daniel shook his head. "Bryce isn't a hanging captain. He'll have you flogged, more like. What waylaid you into coming straight here without even squeezing your hair dry?"

"I... well..." Ben shivered again. "I saw a mermaid. A real one."

Daniel peered at him, then walked closer and sat on the bench next to him. "A mermaid."

"Aye, a mermaid. She had a face like a picture and tits like ripe melons." Ben held up his hands, cupping them generously to demonstrate, then felt his guts twist again and wrapped his arms around his stomach. "Erp."

Daniel was still eyeing him. "And she took you down to the ocean floor and told you she liked your fat air-breathing body, did she?"

"I'm not fat," Ben protested. "And, uh, she did. Like it, I mean."

Daniel poked him just under the ribs with one blunt finger, and when Ben moved his elbow, clapped his hand right against Ben's stomach. "Hunh," he said.

Ben whimpered a bit. Daniel's hand was right over one of the eggs, and he was sure that Daniel could feel it--was suddenly suspicious that Daniel knew exactly what had happened to him. "Don't tell anyone," he pleaded.

"Don't worry," Daniel said, and he was suddenly so soothing that Ben stared at him in surprise. "Look, you're not going to be fit for service for a while now. Why don't I send the lad to the ship with a note that you washed ashore and we've got a doctor for you, and you can stay in the attic room until you get back on your feet?"

Ben gawped at him. "I... I don't have the pay," he finally said. "All my effects are on the ship, and I don't have money enough to cover a room for..."

"You let me worry about that," Daniel said, solicitous as anything. "Now, why don't we get you upstairs where there's a bed, get some soup into you, and you can stop worrying about what happened to you?"

Ben tried his best to read Daniel's face. It was an honest face, one that might have been roughly handsome if his left eye didn't occasionally drift away and he hadn't had his nose broken at least as many times as Ben's had been. But he appeared to be serious, and grave as any publican giving away free lodging, and Ben--

Ben's stomach was still adjusting. He winced and nodded. "I'll find some way to pay you back, Daniel, swear I will."

"Well, now, that's honest of you," Daniel said. "Come on, I'll have the boy show you to the room."

That was how Ben found himself in a cramped attic, window steamed from the heat downstairs, one straw bed and several scratchy blankets for comfort. It was a little slice of heaven.

For a few minutes when he had privacy he tried to force the eggs out, but there was something sticking them up inside him and all it did was hurt. So he lay back on the bed and rubbed his belly and eventually the cramping eased, and he sighed as he felt everything sort of settle down inside of him. It wasn't too bad, he guessed, though the lumps made it hard to sit up, and walking still felt like he was off his balance. Hopefully soon they'd hatch, and--

Hang on. How were the eggs supposed to hatch while inside him? Was he supposed to lay them like an oversized chicken? Were little fish people just going to swim around inside him? He thought about that for a minute, thought about little hands and flippers pushing their way through his guts, getting turned around and forcing their way deeper inside him, and it sickened him at the same time it reminded his dick of the deep winding pressure of Lirube's cock.

Footsteps on the stair made him try to sit up, and the pressure of the eggs inside him gave him a sudden cramp bad enough he fell back on the bed again. Daniel came up the hatchway and looked him over in sympathy.

"Hurts, does it?"

"Not unless I do something unwise," Ben said. Daniel walked over to him, stooped under the low ceiling, and out of a lack of anywhere else to sit took a spot beside him on the bed. "I can't fold up as well as I could this morning."

"I expect that would be difficult." Now that they were alone, Ben could see Daniel's expression was openly fascinated. He shifted on the bed slightly, feeling awkward as an object of interest.

Suddenly Daniel reached out and pushed Ben's shirt up his ribs, then lay his hands hot against Ben's exposed stomach. Ben swallowed, as the intimate pressure shifted something around in his insides and made him cognizant of just how _full_ he was, nearly fist-sized eggs pushed up inside him until no more would fit. He was lucky they didn't show more than they did, but in the candle light and with Daniel's hands pressing against his skin he could see clearly the lumps and outlines of at least a dozen bumps cresting his skin.

"Good graces," Daniel swore. "How many did they fill you with?"

"I don't know," Ben said. "A lot? I lost count." He shook his head and groaned. "I'm too young to be a mum."

"Fucking hells, man," Daniel said. He rubbed a circle around on Ben's stomach, then dropped one hand to Ben's traitor cock, which was straining in his trousers. "Guess it can't be that bad, then."

"You go try it then," Ben said. "Say you're looking for Lirube."

"Hmmm," Daniel said. He stroked down the length of Ben's cock, then back to the root. "You know, I wasn't going to press this, but I've thought of something you might do for me, if you're feeling generous."

"Oh." Ben swallowed. "I'm not--you know I'd be happy to, I just can't _move_ much, right now, and I've just been--"

"I'll think of some way to make it easy on you," Daniel said, then unfastened Ben's pants.

Ben's cock swelled proud and tall, long enough he could see more than a handful over his new curvature, and then Daniel's mouth came down around him hot and wet. Daniel sucked him deep into his mouth and licked greedily at the tip of his cock while Ben groaned and tried not to thrust, every motion slowly shaking the eggs back and forth inside him.

Better hope Biruelle doesn't mind if they're scrambled, he thought, and almost laughed.

Daniel had been getting his own smallclothes out of the way and now rearranged himself so he could lay next to Ben on the bed, his cock in a tempting position for Ben to suck, himself. Ben gave in to that temptation, letting the innkeeper's pole slide through his lips. It tasted of good honest land sweat, not the eldritch salt of the sea, and he let the musk and dribbles of moisture coat his mouth. Daniel's prick was a respectably sized one, and soon it was thrusting against the back of Ben's throat, and then the salty tang of his emissions were spilling into Ben's mouth, reward for a job well done.

Ben still hadn't come. He swallowed the thick taste of Daniel's seed down his throat, and tried to focus on the sucking sensation of Daniel's mouth on his prick. It was difficult after he'd been so thoroughly used earlier in the day; normally he'd be able to go again but he hadn't just come, he'd had his whole body stretched open, and now that body was tired.

It wasn't until Daniel started rubbing his stomach again, fingers cupping around each bulge like he was going to count every single one, Ben's guts tightening protectively around their cargo and letting him feel all the precious nodules shift and settle inside him, that all the sensations of fullness and heat and penetration came together and he came, almost as hard as he had underwater, desperate flooding into Daniel's mouth.

Daniel straightened up and patted him on the shoulder. "Well done," he said. "Get some rest, I'll send up something to eat." He left Ben with his trousers still undone, staring at the ceiling and feeling the room spin around him.

* * *

Daniel Toller sent the boy out with two messages. The first one went to Captain Bryce of the Zephyr, begging his pardon but seaman Ben Obie had washed ashore ill and was being attended to at the Stars and Anchor, and wouldn't be coming back for some time. The second one went to Lord Francis Waymont, fourth Earl of Lendenwell, by way of his creepy manservant, George.

That wasn't just Daniel's opinion. As far as Daniel could tell, his lordship paid George to be professionally unsettling.

True to his lordship's word, Daniel hadn't been downstairs five minutes from checking on Ben when the boy trotted back inside with George at his heels.

George was knife-slender and pointy all over, from his nose and cheekbones to his elbows to the flat planes of his arse. He was wearing gray, close-cut silk suiting, with a pendant of rubies and emeralds in the shape of the pegasus sigil of Lendenwell to break the monotony. George looked over the assembled patrons of the public house with a flat, dismissive expression on his pretty face, then nodded at Daniel. "Good evening."

"Thank you for coming, sir," Daniel said, trying not to let that flat, affectless gaze get the better of him. "He's upstairs."

"Hmm." George tilted his head back slightly, as though looking up through the first floor of rooms to the attic. "Are you sure he's been... impregnated?"

"Felt the eggs myself," Daniel assured him.

"Very well." George settled his hat more firmly in the crook of his elbow and hoisted his walking stick like a cudgel. "I'll take a look. If he is what we're looking for, we'll pay you the agreed finder's fee."

"Thank you, sir. Thank you. This way."

Daniel prided himself on not shuddering as he preceeded George up the stairs, then up the ladder to the attic.

Bess had brought Ben a bowl of soup, and Ben himself was awkwardly lying on his side and drinking the last from the bowl. He set the bowl down on the floor when he saw Daniel come up the stairs, then gawped when he saw George. "Uh... hello?"

To be fair, George got that reaction from a lot of people. And granted that the next thing he did was bend over Ben's midsection and give one of the pale lumps under his flesh a squeeze, it was probably more polite than the man deserved.

"Ow!" Ben said, throwing his arms across his belly. "What the hell?"

"Satisfactory, at least for the preliminaries," George said to Daniel. He turned and looked down at Ben, who was scowling up at him. "You'll accompany me back to Graystanes. I have a carriage waiting."

"What the hell?" Ben repeated himself.

George raised his eyebrows. "His effects?"

"On the ship," Daniel said when Ben didn't chime in.

"Mmm," George said. He gave Ben one more look. "We'll dress him there. Not much sense waiting for whatever he's got on board. You, come along." Then he turned and descended the ladder, quick as you please. Like a particularly fair-haired cat.

Ben was staring at Daniel, now. "What in hells, Daniel? What's going on?"

"Now, look," Daniel said reasonably. "You said yourself you can't pay for this room, and His Lordship has plenty of money. You won't want for comfort, and he'll arrange things with the navy. It's everything you could want out of this."

"Who _was_ that?" Ben said, looking green around the gills. "Why did he touch me? What did you tell him?"

"Now, I don't want to hurry you," Daniel said, "But if you don't follow George into that carriage, next thing that will happen is two very large men from Graystanes Manor are going to show up and drag you out of here, and you don't need that kind of excitement in your condition. Why don't you follow the gentleman and go get some rest in a much nicer place than this one?"

Ben picked at the blanket and looked wan. "Can't I stay here?"

Daniel pursed his lips. "You're going to need the room for a long while. Do you have a hundred and fifty to cover it?"

"No, but..."

"Then you'd better go with George. Hup to."

Ben reluctantly dragged himself out of bed, crouching awkwardly over his distended stomach. He made sure his clothes, such as they were, were in order, and climbed with much less grace down the ladder after George.

Once Ben was secure in His Lordship's carriage, George passed Daniel a small clinking bag. "Retainer," George said. "Once we're certain he's what we want, I'll send the rest."

"Much obliged, sir," Daniel said, and watched the carriage leave with some measure of satisfaction. A job well done, all around.

* * *

Ben was having a very strange day.

At least the carriage had some extra blankets inside that the thin man allowed him to wrap himself in. Other than that, he was ignored the entire drive from the pub to the manor outside town. He'd seen Graystanes, of course, from the ship, hidden in the fog in the morning and in the shadow of the evergreens in the evening. It was a lonely-looking, forboding place, much like his romantic mind imagined a lord's manor ought to look.

And now it was evening heading into night, and their carriage was heading down the path of those same evergreens, toward the imposing front door. Apparently Ben was to live here. Why? What did they want him for?

He had a suspicion that it had to do with the eggs. There was nothing else about him that rated even the slightest notice. But get knocked up by a mermaid and all of a sudden lords and great men came calling. He'd have to recommend the practice to his sisters.

George, the strange gentleman he'd been instructed to follow, divested himself of hat, coat, gloves, and walking stick, and then led Ben through the imposing entrance hall, up a stairway, and down a corridor. He opened a door at the end of the hallway and stepped inside.

There was a huge bedroom past the door, all done up smartly, with a dressing table and huge wardrobe at one end, the bed in the middle near a roaring fireplace, and over near the window a writing desk and a round table that had four seats around it. There were carpets on the floor and heavy curtains and it was all sumptuous and a little scary, and Ben was wondering whose bedroom he was tresspassing in until he realized George was talking and moreover realized the man was saying this room was to be his.

Ben gaped at him. "I'm sorry?"

George sighed, as though he were being very patient. "You'll stay here. In the wardrobe you should be able to find a nightshirt and a housecoat for now, and tomorrow the tailor will begin getting you fitted for clothing. The washroom is through there." He pointed at a door past the wardrobe. "All the necessities you need should be there. Now. Remove your clothes and get on the bed."

"Why?" Ben snapped. It probably wasn't the wisest thing to say, George was important and his employer was titled and rich and Ben was in trouble, but he was uncomfortable and tired and confused and stung by Daniel's sudden betrayal. "Why should I follow your orders, and why do you want me here, and..." he finally shook his head under George's pitying glare.

"Well," George said. He strode to the bedside table. "As to the first, because my employer is going to be buying out your commission with the navy. You'll retire from _our_ service a much wealthier man. And we want you here because my employer is interested in what I believe you have growing in your guts. Now," he picked up a small dark bottle from the table, then gave Ben a very intimidating look. "Undress and get on the bed. Hands and knees."

Out of self-posession and too tired to argue, Ben pulled off his clothing. He had no idea what to do with it once he was naked, so he piled it on the foot of the enormous bed and climbed on after it. Being on his hands and knees made the eggs inside of him stretch and pull downward, and he cradled his stomach with one arm and tried to breathe carefully.

George had uncorked the bottle and poured some kind of oil on his fingers, and now he jammed several of those fingers into Ben's arse.

Ben had taken larger things up his arse just earlier that day, but it was late and he was sore and tired, and he bit back a cry as George started working his fingers back and forth, massaging the oil into him. The oil felt good, slick and soothing on already stretched muscles, and in a few minutes George had relaxed him enough that he could slide in his other two fingers. Ben sighed and hitched his hips as George rubbed inside of him, trying to enjoy it.

The bizarreness of the whole situation started to melt away with the pressure of George's fingers, until George's knuckles had spread him wide, until George pushed his thumb to his palm and twisted until Ben was gasping at the stretch. And then the widest part of George's hand was through, into him, and he was groaning at the feeling. Fullness, again, almost as good as getting fucked.

"Mmm, good," George said, as his hand slipped deeper into Ben's body. Ben rocked back against him, trying to push him even further, and George chuckled. "Eager little thing, aren't you. Now I see how you wound up like this."

Ben moaned, controlling himself just enough to avoid saying 'fuck you.' "Oh. No..."

It was then that George's fingers bumped something inside him, and he hissed as it tugged at his insides and twisted a bit, painfully. "Ah, there one is," George said. He cupped his fingers around it and pulled, and Ben whimpered at the pain as it tried to pull his guts with it. "I see, it's fastened on there."

"I noticed that. Is that bad?" Ben said as George relaxed his fingers and pulled his hand back.

"On the contrary, it means you weren't lying." George pulled his hand the rest of the way out and Ben gasped. "There was a man desperate for the money who tried to fool us with polished rocks. It worked until one slipped out."

Ben took a deep breath and lay down, turning onto his side. "I can't imagine trying that. It was difficult enough getting the real thing."

"Well, that when when we were advertising the price." George's smile was cruel, and Ben shivered. "Just trust that we'll take care of you." He reached his hand down to stroke Ben's prick, which was standing stiff, and Ben couldn't help thrusting into his hand.

"Hmmm," George said. "Well, it only seems fair."

George's hand was warm and slippery with oil, and the pressure and rhythm of his fingers soon had Ben panting. Again, the pressure inside him mingled with the pressure on his prick, and he closed his eyes and let the pleasure build up inside him again, until with a snap it uncoiled and he came in George's grip.

George patted him on the shoulder as he lay there panting and sweating on the fine blankets. "Very good," George said. "Get some rest, we'll have more tomorrow."

* * *

Lord Lendenwell was in his quarters when George was done settling their guest into his room. He was reading a novel in front of the fire as George divested himself of his clothing, save the pendant, and came to kneel at his lord's feet.

His lord set the book down with an indulgent smile and let George kiss his fingers, then ran his hand through George's hair. "Now, dear heart," he said as George stood, "tell me about our guest. Did your publican acquaintance lie?"

"He did not, my lord," George said. He hissed as Francis ran thumb and forefinger along his cock, then slid two fingers into his front hole, which was traitorously slick and dripping. "The man's very awkwardly enlarging. Mermaid eggs aren't that big, but he looks like he has a good clutch of them in there."

"Was he good looking?" Francis teased.

"No, my lord..." George moaned again as Francis curled his fingers. "Not particularly. Roundish face, brown hair, nose that's taken a beating... cock like a truncheon, though, if you like those."

"I am a bit fond." Francis kissed George's stomach, just below his sternum. "You know, if you ever wanted to do this the easy way, we wouldn't have to go through all this trouble."

"No, sir," George said shortly. It was one of his few absolute limits, and Francis knew it.

Francis himself just nodded against George's skin. "I didn't think you'd changed your mind. You'd let me know if you had."

"Yes, my lord."

"Come here, then."

George knelt again, letting his lord's fingers slip out from him. He sucked Francis' fingers clean when they were presented to him, and only then reached to open the front of Francis' trousers.

Francis liked George to do all the work on his cock; he sat back in his chair and rested one hand on George's head and one hand on his own thigh. George bobbed his head down until he could feel the head of Francis' cock in his throat, then carefully swallowed, feeling the flesh filling his mouth and then sliding into his gullet. His air closed off as his throat was pressed wider, and the sweet press of his lord's cock opened him up until his nose was pressed against his lord's short hairs and he imagined he felt the head of it in his stomach.

George bobbed his head a few times just to feel that glorious length sliding in his throat, then pulled back far enough that he could breathe. He took a few deep breaths before pressing forward again. Francis hummed contentedly and ruffled his hair, and George felt his body flush, as though the air in the entire room had warmed.

He fucked himself onto his lord's cock for a stretch of lazy minutes, taking breaks to breathe whenever he needed, as Francis continued to gently stroke his hair and rub circles on his own thigh. George couldn't hurry Francis' orgasm. His lord would let him know when he was ready to release. Once it had taken almost an hour, intermittent breaths, mind sharpened to a point focused only on sensation, here, now: lips stretched, mouth full, throat extended. The sliding motion was easy now, his whole upper body a sheath for his lord's sword.

George realized he was aching to come himself when Francis finally shifted his hips forward, minutely, and groaned in the back of his throat. Quick as a wink George pushed forward until Francis' cock was as deep in his throat as he could hold it, the twitching pole vibrating inside him, tickling with the small motions of orgasm. Finally Francis sighed and leaned back, George's signal to pull away, lick the head of his cock to taste the salt-bitter cream, and breathe.

"Hmmm, nicely done," Francis said, as he usually did. He cocked his head as George raised his eyes. "How are you feeling tonight?"

In response, George took a deep breath and leaned forward again, swallowing as much of Francis' softening prick as he could, until the head was again lodged in the back of his throat. Francis nodded, closed his eyes, and in a second the hot stream of his urine was splashing against the back of George's throat.

He wasn't always ready to do this--the taste was almost nonexistent, but only if he swallowed quickly, and didn't let himself think as the spray pulsed in his throat and flooded into his stomach. The sheer amount of it always caught him off guard and he squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to notice it, just swallow, swallow, swallow it all down, until it stopped and Francis was pulling his cock out of his mouth, tucking it away.

George looked up again to see his lord beaming at him. _"Very_ good, George." He reached over for the cup of brandy on his table, lifted it and pressed it to George's lips. George took a small swallow to warm himself and clear his mouth, to settle the roiling in his belly and anchor the pleasure and pride that rushed through him. 'Good, I did good, I'm getting better at that.'

"Thank you, my lord," George said when Francis had pulled the cup away.

Francis smiled and patted George's head again. "You're close, aren't you?"

"Yes, my lord."

Francis' smile got wider. "Then come."

Oh--George could feel his orgasm trembling--he owed his lord that, his lord owned this body, his lord deserved his absolute obedience, and if he didn't comply, if he wasn't able to come, his lord would do such things to punish him, ah, he remembered being on the rack with the rattan and the whip and his lord's sweet hand and he'd scream and scream oh--

OH, orgasm, coming, coming down, sighing, trembling, George's thighs were shaking as he gasped for air and his lord held his face steady. "Good, good," Francis said soothingly. "Excellent. How are you feeling?"

"Very... well, my lord," George said, filling his lungs with air again as best he could. He was still shivering, but it was a most welcome shiver.

"How about you pick out a toy that's about the size of our guest's truncheon and meet me on the bed," Francis said, patting him on the shoulder. "I'll be there as soon as I've undressed."

George got to his feet and padded over the thick rugs to the chest of drawers by the bed. The first two drawers held a variety of soft manacles and punishment devices, but the next few had dildoes and stretching devices of all different sizes. George hefted a leather phallus only slightly smaller around than Ben's cock and took it with him to stretch out on Francis' bed.

Francis nodded appreciatively at the tool George was clutching. "You weren't kidding."

"No, my lord," George said, as Francis finished removing his clothes and climbed into bed after him. "Quite a pleasant surprise."

Francis took the dildo from him, smiled, and leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth. As he slid his tongue into George's mouth he put the tip of the dildo at George's dripping front entrance and pushed.

George groaned into his lord's mouth as the dildo pushed him open. He was able to take both of Francis' fists so he knew he could manage, but it was still a delightful stretch after a day of anticipation. The dildo bottomed out, nudging against his cervix with a few inches remaining outside of him, and he gasped at the shock of pain and ground down into it.

"Mmmm, you enjoy that, don't you," Francis observed.

"Yes--ah!--my lord," George said.

Francis grasped the end of the dildo and started thrusting it deep into his body, thudding against that enjoyably painful spot every time. "I wonder if we can force you open again. Hmm?"

George groaned and leaned his head back onto the pillows. That had taken nearly an hour and the assistance of her ladyship, and been exquisitely painful--but rewarding. "If my lord wishes," he said, tilting his hips invitingly.

"Mmm, not tonight, I don't think," Francis said, to George's mild disappointment and stronger relief. Francis positioned himself on his knees between George's legs, and slid his fingers through George's dripping wetness. "Something more traditional was on my mind tonight." He put his hands underneath George's hips and lifted him free of the bed.

George felt his lord's recovered erection pressing at his arse and grinned. It would take Francis much longer to come after being relieved so recently, and he was fit enough for a good long pounding. "Thank you, my lord."

Francis smiled and thrust himself in to the hilt.

Even lubricated it was a rough entry, and George gasped with the heat of it, the smack of Francis' hips against his and the sudden fullness as his cock pressed him open and rubbed against the dildo in his cunt. Francis' stomach drove the base of the dildo hard into George's body, bending it and bashing his cervix again, and the wonderful pain and pleasure snapped through his body like a lightning strike. George wrapped his legs around Francis' waist and urged him deeper, again, as he slowly withdrew and waited a long breath before slamming forward again.

Francis drilled into George's body methodically, and pretty soon the pain and the pleasure weren't separate feelings, it was just one toe-curling overwhelming sensation. George was pretty sure his eyes were rolling backwards in his head as Francis continued to fuck him, faster now, and faster. The rhythmic tattoo of pain-pleasure rolled through his entire lower half until suddenly there was a _stretch_ and a _pop_ inside him, and Francis slammed smack into him as the tip of the dildo forced its way through George's cervix and the last few inches jumped inside him and his orgasm hit like a tidal wave.

He could vaguely feel limbs, torso, fullness, he was screaming and pulling at Francis' body as the pain radiated outward and echoed back with yes, yes, yes, and Francis grunted and slammed into him deep, hard, coming, collapsing, the two of them tangled together and trying desperately to breathe through the aftermath.

George pressed on his stomach and winced as he felt every inch of the dildo inside him, painfully lodging him open, vanished from sight between his legs. "Looks like you got your wish after all, my lord."

"Hmm," Francis said, reaching between George's legs. He pushed his fingers inside, and had to stretch before he nudged the end of the dildo, causing another shock to wrack George's body. "How lovely. Shall I leave it until morning?"

George thought about trying to sleep with the dildo buried inside him. Imagined every breath causing a squirm of pain, every twitch letting it settle deeper inside of him. Imagined waking to Francis fucking him, as he often did, the cramps and the agony it would cause.

"Yessss, my lord," George breathed. "If my lord wishes it so."

Francis chuckled and trailed his hand up to George's, patted him gently. "Sleep well, my dear."

* * *

Ben had found himself a nightshirt in one of the drawers in the wardrobe, and a robe hanging there for the next morning. There were slippers for his feet, and when he awoke after a fair night's sleep, a servant in elegant uniform came with breakfast on a tray and set it up on the table by the window. Ben ate well. He was starving, but there was plenty of food, more than he could finish, and all of it tasting better than anything he'd had shipboard or at a local pub.

Sighing, replete, he leaned back and brushed crumbs off the front of the robe and tried to figure out what next.

It turned out that he didn't have much of a choice, because next another servant showed up to take his breakfast things away, and then someone showed in a tailor who whisked both the robe and nightshirt off him without much of an introduction and started wrapping him up in measuring tape from all angles, most of them intimate.

Ben leaned his head back, sighed, and determined to himself that rich people just liked it when their lessers were naked. It must make them feel important somehow.

But surprisingly soon he was given a set of smallclothes, shirt and trousers, and new shoes as well, though those pinched a bit in the toes. He was assured that they'd stretch out and if not, Lord Lendenwell had ordered that they be seen to.

By the time all that was done it was lunch, and after that he was allowed to see some of the manor and the grounds. Graystanes was just as astonishingly picturesque from the inside as it was from sea, looking out over the harbor, all huge and fancy and tidy in ways that Ben didn't even have words for. There were rooms just for music or billiards or card playing and a huge room for his lordship's books, a huge dining room and a slightly smaller dining room with a nicer view, and more yards of fancy curtains and carpets than would fill the hold of the Zephyr.

Late afternoon he was resting at his table, wondering if he'd ever see Lord Lendenwell in person and thinking nervously about dinner, when George swept into his room.

Ben took the chance in the light of day to get a better look at him. He was still wearing the pendant with the red-and-green stones in the shape of a rearing pegasus, but today his suit was flaxen gold, just a shade darker than his hair. His eyes changed color from brown to green depending on the light; right now they were deceptively mild.

Ben shifted in his chair and wondered if he was supposed to stand up.

"I was planning on getting you cleaned up before supper," George said. "I can show you how to use the equipment, and then you can do it yourself in the future. Afterwards I'll introduce you to your benefactor. Agreeable?"

"Do I have a choice?" Ben asked.

George pursed his lips and thought for a moment. "Well, we could postpone the meeting, but he is very eager to see you. And I'd thought you'd be curious. I must insist on the wash, though."

Ben sniffed his underarm. He'd rubbed himself down with a washcloth before breakfast, but hadn't had time to do more, and he'd been walking up and down the manor since. His new clothing already smelled slightly sour. "I suppose it'd be a shame not to."

The washroom, he'd noticed earlier, was all tiles, all over the floor and walls, making the whole room rather cave-like and green with the color of them. It was like being back in the ocean, especially when George, who had shucked his jacket and turned up his sleeves, turned a tap on the wall and water started pouring out of a spout near the ceiling.

Ben found that the water was actually warmer than the room, and rather pleasant. He obligingly stood under the shower and soaped himself up, watching the water sluice away into a drain in the floor. In the meanwhile, George was fiddling with a hose near the tap, adjusting a knob and letting water run out of it until he was satisfied.

"All right then, come here," George said once Ben had rinsed the suds off. Ben stared at him in confusion for a moment--they weren't more than inches apart--until George motioned him to turn around.

Fairly sure he knew where this was going, Ben turned around.

The nozzle slipped easily into his arse, and Ben braced himself as the water started gurgling into him. Of all the things that had been abruptly thrust into his guts in the last couple of days, this was by far the pleasantest. Warm water inside and warm water showering down, what wasn't to like?

At least, that's what he thought until the water kept coming. Unlike the eggs it didn't have to slow down or maneuver, and there was no pause for breath. There was a twinge as something opened up inside of him and the water started sloshing around, but mostly he felt the water pushing him out from the inside. His stomach started to swell under the pressure, he could feel it actually pushing his fingers apart, and he took deep breaths and cradled his stomach as his belly grew to fill his arms. He couldn't see the bulges of the eggs any more, but he could feel them buoyantly tugging at his insides as the current pushed deeper into him.

Finally George turned a knob and the water flowing into him gurgled to a stop. Ben whimpered.

"All right, you've done well," George said soothingly, rubbing circles on his back. "Now, when I pull this out, hop over to the privy and let it out, all right?"

He'd wondered what posessed the architect to put the privy and the bath in the same room and to cover the entire thing with tiles, and now he knew. His guts twitched again, and not trusting himself to speak, he nodded.

"Good. Here we go."

Ben clamped his arsehole down tight as George pulled the nozzle out, and he was able to waddle over to the privy seat, using his arms to help manage his girth and feeling the liquid slosh back and forth inside him with every step. But then he was on the seat and letting go, and all the water was washing out of him--tugging on the eggs but hopefully cleaning out everything else besides.

He groaned. George dragged the hose over to him and gave him a smile that may have intended to be reassuring. "That's all right, then. Here, lean forward, I'll rinse you off."

Ben did lean forward, and the water rinsing him off did feel nice. And then George made him do it again. And then a third time, filling him so full that his guts were aching as George whispered sweet things about how nice and big he looked and wouldn't it be a sight when the eggs were full grown inside him?

Finally George was satisfied that Ben was clean inside and out, and Ben was able to lie down on his bed for a moment and recover his breath, stomach shrunken to its now-normally impregnated curvature instead of the massive inflation George had affected.

'That was something, though,' Ben thought, and kicked himself. It'd probably be murder to live with if it wasn't temporary. His back would never forgive him.

George had somehow managed to avoid getting wet, cat-like bugger that he was, and he was producing clothing that Ben had never seen and encouraging Ben to sit up and start dressing.

Ben had been in the navy and at the command of far less pleasant tasks on less rest. He let George dress him like a mannequin, fine socks and tight trousers and shirt and waistcoat cut close enough to the skin that his condition was obvious--that or it looked like he'd developed an old man's tankard tummy a decade early.

"Marvelous," George said, which made him blush. Oh, well. It was why he was here, after all.

"How hungry are you?" George asked mildly when he was satisfied with Ben's clothes. "I only ask because my lord would love to get a look at you before supper, but if you can't wait..."

Ben felt confused, not hungry. "I don't think I urgently need anything else inside me."

"Oh, you might change your mind on that." George smoothed Ben's jacket down, hand lingering over Ben's stomach. "Come along, then."

Ben had felt overwhelmed by how grand his room was, but walking into Lord Lendenwell's rooms, he suddenly understood that there was a whole other level of luxury.

The rugs in his room were fine. The rugs in this room were finer, so plush that footsteps were soundless and every one of them intricate patterns and colors. The furniture, and there was more of it, was all carved with leaves and vines and seemed to be inlaid with ten different kinds of wood. The floors were parquetry, the walls covered in paintings--

Ben got a better look at the paintings and his mental inventory ground to a halt. Oh, he'd seen some of the same stories illustrated, but he was pretty sure that he'd never seen the god of thunder in the person of a swan taking a virgin painted with quite so much attention to the swan's engorged penis corkscrewing into the maid's glistening cunt. Or the mother of the minotaur being serviced by the sacred bull, his sacred pizzle outlined through her belly and his sacred bollocks swinging low beneath her. Or the wild women tearing the young king to pieces but riding him first, the queen mother astride his cock leaning down to give her son a bloody kiss.

Ben tore his eyes away from the illustrated myth to see George gesturing him forward, through another door, into a bedroom as big as the first room over again. The bed could have swallowed the bed he'd been given entire and still leave room for three men. The fireplace was big enough that it wouldn't have looked out of place in a pub, though a pub that could afford that much gold would probably cost more than Ben could afford just to stand and look. And the man beside the fireplace, oh, that was probably the Earl of Lendenwell himself, from his dress and his look and the signet ring on his hand, and Ben followed George's lead too slowly and dropped to his knee. Then he had to bite back a groan as his guts pinched from the motion, the eggs taking more than a moment to resettle in his new position.

"Come, come, young man, let's get a look at you," Lord Lendenwell said, and when Ben looked up he was being beckoned closer.

Ben gingerly stood again, feeling the eggs settling back inside him, and padded forward. His feet were eerily soundless on the rug. Lord Lendenwell was taller than he was, and deeper hued of skin, with a high brow and black hair and eyes that pierced like a hawk. He was dressed all in golds and greens, with occasional flashes of red, rubies among the emeralds.

But aside from the wealth and the fact that he held Ben's life in his hands, the lord of Lendenwell looked kind--his beard was neat and curved, his cheeks were accustomed to smiles, his hands broad and smooth. He looked like a man who could get what he wanted, but who took joy in getting it.

And right now he was walking over to Ben and putting his hands on Ben's shoulders, then smoothing those hands down the front of Ben's clothes, until he was cradling the bulge of eggs that had brought Ben to this pass. "Well, hello, there," Lendenwell said.

"Ben," George suggested from right behind his left ear, making him squeak, "Why don't you take off your clothes and let my lord examine you more closely?"

The earl was smiling kindly, but Ben thought about the paintings in the other room and considered what kind of close examination he was in for.

Of course he didn't have much of a choice. His fingers were numb as he fumbled the buttons of his new clothes open, until he was in nothing but an undershirt and his trousers, braces hanging slack, letting Lord Lendenwell run his hands all over the shivering lumps in his belly and trying not to let his body's interest in the proceedings show.

Though again, he didn't think that his lordship would exactly mind. It seemed to be part of the agenda.

"Well, now," Lord Lendenwell said, letting Ben know his effort had been completely in vain. "It seems our new friend is interested in some pre-supper entertainment. Shall we oblige him, darling?"

For a moment Ben didn't understand who Lord Lendenwell was talking to, and then the incongruity of George being anyone's darling rendered him mute. Fortunately, neither of the other men requred his intervention. "That sounds lovely," George said, and took Ben by the elbow, walking him over to the bed.

George kept the pendant with the Lendenwell crest on as he undressed. It was a strange vanity, Ben thought, as he disrobed (again) and climbed onto the bed. He cradled his stomach and rolled over onto his back, plenty of room in the vast expanse of luxurious satin that sank under his weight then sprung him back again.

Lord Lendenwell's shoulders were broad and his torso muscled, but he had no scars and no calluses as he reached out to claim Ben's body with his fingers. "Oho," Lendenwell said, as he felt around the bulges of the leathery eggs inside Ben, "That is interesting." He gave Ben a smile. "How does it feel?"

"Strange, lord," Ben said.

Though in truth it was already less strange. It fascinated people. It fascinated him. The eggs were stuck inside of him and yet he could feel them moving sometimes when he moved. They were solid, yet the shells didn't feel like chicken eggs, they were eggs of the sea, with some shift and some give in them.

He didn't know if they would grow like human babes, or for how long. He hoped they wouldn't grow too much. He still had to get them out.

"Well, dear," and Ben had to remind himself that the Earl was talking to George, again, "would you like to sample the real thing?"

George looked at Ben with an expression he recalled from the painting of the Maenad queen in the next room. "Quite, my lord."

Ben gasped as George leaned over him, curving over his body like a bow, rubbing up and down the length of Ben's cock. For a moment Ben wasn't sure what he was feeling, and then a slick, tight, grasping heat was enveloping his prick, and he looked down to see George lowering himself down onto him--but George had a quim as obvious as any of the ones in the paintings, with a proud-standing cock-like clit out front and tight, wet, hot channel squeezing him within.

Well, all right then, Ben thought. He'd met other men born with that particular set of equipment before, in the navy, but usually he'd been able to tell. So Lord Lendenwell had his collection of pornographic art and George got to fuck whoever he wanted and Ben had a belly full of mermaid eggs and this was his life now.

George settled himself firmly around Ben's cock and leaned forward, stretching his body over the curve of Ben's stomach. His pendant tapped against Ben's chest as he rocked back and forth, tight and wet, humming contentedly under his breath.

Ben gingerly let himself reach up to stroke the taut planes of George's body, the perfect handful of his arse, his narrow, limber waist, his straining back. George encouraged him with caresses for a while, then took Ben's wrists in his hands and pinned Ben to the bed.

He heard Lord Lendenwell chuckle, and felt the bed shift between his legs. "Very good," Lendenwell said. "Now, I think there's room, here."

There was the nudge of the blunt end of Lord Lendenwell's cock at the base of his, and George threw his head back and gasped as he was forced open, as Ben felt the slick slide of a second stiff prick stuffed into the tight tube alongside his own.

"Oh, my lord," George moaned, and then he clenched around them and Ben felt as though a firm, moist grip was jerking his and Lendenwell's cocks as one. "Oh, thank you."

"Are you enjoying the view, darling?" Lendenwell asked George, as he cradled George's hips and started to thrust. Ben hissed as he felt the head of Lendenwell's cock sliding against the underside of his, rubbing and pressing him into that tight wet tunnel. "Thought about how you'd like a clutch of those eggs inside of you, then?"

If Ben's head weren't spinning, if he weren't drowning in sensation, shoved deep into George's body and getting fucked alongside him, he might have felt that was a revelation, that these two wanted to knock George up the same way he had been. Now though it just gave a surge of pleasure to his loins, thinking of egg-bumps poking out of George's flat tummy, ruining the line of his skinny suit, doubling him over around a belly grown swollen and thick. Ben hissed and thrust upward against Lendenwell's cock, and the lord laughed and matched him. "I think our guest approves the plan!"

"Oh, yes," George agreed, "Yes, yes--"

George came suddenly, sharply, and all of his body went tense at once. Ben's cock was ground into Lord Lendenwell's in a fierce grip that worked to wring his own orgasm from him. Lendenwell started thrusting harder, faster against him, and the staccato rhythm pushed pulses of pleasure up his prick. Ben's orgasm was finished and he was gasping and the rough thrusts against his cock were starting to feel more painful than pleasurable when the lord pushed balls-deep alongside him and cried out in his own pleasure and triumph.

After that, Ben thought, he could be forgiven if he didn't move much.

George curled up on the bed to his left and Lord Lendenwell to his right. George kept his hands to himself, though he was running the chain of his pendant through its loop in a fidgety way. Lendenwell, on the other hand, was caressing Ben's stomach again, gently. "Tell me, Mr. Obie," Lord Lendenwell said, "How much did you know about merfolk before you embarked on this... adventure?"

"Not much," Ben replied, shifting awkwardly. "And, uh, under the circumstances, my lord, you can call me Ben."

Lord Lendenwell leaned back and laughed, delighted. "Well, under the circumstances, Ben, you must call me Francis." He met Ben's eyes, still grinning. "Unless you'd prefer to call me 'my lord.' Some do."

George stifled his own laugh. Lord Lendenwell--Francis--looked kindly at him.

"Thank you," Ben said, and found he couldn't actually make himself pronounce Francis' personal name. "Ah, my lord, I mean..."

Francis looked at him sympathetically. "You've had a trying couple of days. I'm sure my household seems strange to you. Though you've had your own _broadening_ endeavors." He stroked Ben's stomach again and grinned. "For my part, I know a few things about merfolk. I was aware that they bond in pairs, that they spawn somewhat like fish... and that they prefer to incubate their clutches inside living hosts." He cocked his head at Ben.

Ben swallowed. "All I knew was you shouldn't chase one if you couldn't swim."

Francis looked like he was about to laugh again. Instead he just shook his head. "Oh, dear." He patted Ben on the stomach. "You'll have to give me a full report some time."

"My lord, do you know... do you know anything else about this?" Ben gestured at his midsection. "I don't even know how long it's supposed to last for."

"At least until early spring," Francis said. "Though given a proper host the eggs can actually absorb everything they need to keep growing for several months more."

Ben felt his insides clench in reflexive anxiety. "So they will get bigger."

"Oh, yes." Francis resumed stroking his belly. "I haven't been able to ascertain just how big they can get. But don't worry. We'll make sure you're properly cared for and protected."

Ben tried to imagine the weight inside him growing heavier, his guts pushed open by the invaders, his stomach swollen to enormous proportion, and he closed his eyes against a sudden dizziness. He couldn't possibly survive such a thing.

"What do you mean, properly cared for and protected?" he asked weakly.

Francis smiled and reached over to tap George's pendant. "Why, magic, of course," he said. "Magic to protect against any ill effects of such adventures. We wouldn't want you to be harmed by any of this."

Ben turned and looked at George. "Magic?" He asked. "Is that why..."

George grinned, reached down and stroked himself lewdly. "I was born with this," he said, and Ben nodded. "It's the rest I didn't care for. Magic helped."

"And that's why you don't take it off," Ben said.

"Well, it also keeps me from enlarging--in the usual way," George quickly added. "I have a deep aversion to getting caught. And it prevents injury."

Ben thought of the possible ill effects of expelling one of the eggs grown larger than expected and blanched. "Sounds very helpful indeed."

Francis stretched and sat up, looking satisfiedly over them both. "Let me introduce you to my lady wife at supper," he said. "And if she likes what she sees as much as I, then I'm sure your time in our service will be as enjoyable as you could wish."

* * *

Two nights ago, Ben had been dining with the rest of the crew of the Zephyr in the stooped and crowded mess. The previous night, he had been served a bowl of leftover soup from the kitchen of the Stars and Anchor.

Now, he was in the great hall at Greystanes, sitting at the side of the Earl of Lendenwell, who insisted that Ben could call him Francis even when he had his clothes on.

Before they were seated there had been barely time to be introduced to a dizzying number of people, all part of the household in some fashion. There was Lady Lendenwell, of course. She had shockingly white skin and dark hair, and was several months pregnant herself--she cooed over Ben and insisted on comparing her figure to his, which her husband indulged and thus Ben had to. "I'll see to you later," she promised, or threatened, and Ben felt a bit comforted by the length of table between them.

George introduced Ben to his twin sister, Tanya, who was Lady Lendenwell's lady-in-waiting. George's foxlike features were given a softer mirror in Tanya's face, though when she giggled behind her fan and said, "I can't wait to get my claws into you," the family resemblance was at its most clear.

The only other person that Ben was sure of remembering was the Earl's sorceress, Minerva, who had nodded over him and asked to look into his throat and pronounced him "interesting" before wandering off. She didn't seem to be interested in the flirting or the openly sexual comments over the table, which made her stand out from the entire rest of the company, some of whom made suggestions so raunchy that Ben felt like an innocent schoolgirl faced with a sailor's bunkroom talk.

He wondered if all lords kept households as openly hedonist as this one, or if he'd just been lucky.

The food was spectacular. Ben ate his fill, and probably more than he ought. No one made him feel ashamed of his table manners or his lack of conversation. And no one patted him on the stomach while he was eating, which was something of a relief.

At the end of the meal the party started to separate, with some of the men drifting to one of the billiards rooms and some of the women turning toward the library. Lord and Lady Lendenwell embraced, shared a passionate and uninhibited kiss, and held each other briefly at arm's length.

Ben started to understand what he was in for when Lady Lendenwell asked, "Have you satisfied yourself with our new guest?"

"For the moment," Lord Lendenwell responded. Ben found it hard to think of him as Francis when he was deciding Ben's fate. "I can spare him for the night if your curiosity is unsatisfied."

"I am always very curious," the lady responded. "By your leave, husband."

"Granted, wife." Lord Lendenwell turned to Ben and smiled cheerfully. "Have a pleasant evening, Ben."

"Thank you, my lord," Ben said. He watched as Francis took George by the arm and led him back the way they had come.

"Now, darling," Lady Lendenwell said, taking Ben's arm and directing him to walk down the hallway with her. "You mustn't be afraid. I don't know what you've heard about me--"

"Nothing, my lady," Ben said.

"Oh, good," she said. "I won't spoil the surprise, then."

Ben was used enough to the household that he was not surprised to be led to another bedroom, this one in a wing he hadn't visited before. Tanya was there, langourously undressing, and Minerva had joined them, though the sorceress seemed to have no intention of removing any of her clothes. The rooms were just as sumptuous as Lord Lendenwell's, and the decorations just as pornographic, though the interpretations were much looser. At least in the story that Ben had read, the boy with wax-and-feather wings hadn't stroked himself to orgasm as he fell to his doom, and he'd always thought the hunter who caught the goddess of the hunt bathing had been killed by his hounds, not fucked by them.

Minerva spoke first as Tanya took charge of Ben and started in on his clothing. "That merfolk magic is interesting."

"Huh? Oh, the, uh, breathing thing?" Ben blushed as he remembered Biruelle's kiss. "Yeah, it, uh. It helped. I thought it was gone, though."

"Surprisingly, it is still active," Minerva said. "It's actually part of a larger protective magic centered on the clutch. I expect the merfolk don't want anything untoward to happen to their eggs, and that means protecting their host."

Lady Lendenwell nodded. "Will it interfere with our charms?"

"The pendants should be safe enough," Minerva said, drawing a thin chain from her pocket. From it dangled a pendant much like George's, only smaller, and with fewer stones in it. "For anything more complicated, or more permanent, I'll need to study the interactions."

"The pendant should be fine for tonight."

Minerva nodded and handed the chain to the lady of the house, then turned and walked out without acknowledging the rest of them.

"You mustn't mind Minerva," Tanya said. Her voice was pitched higher than George's, and her tone was softer, but the steel behind it was the same. If Ben had thought of minding Minerva, he'd have been terrified out of it.

Lady Lendenwell approached him when he was nearly naked, sitting on her bed in his smallclothes and feeling as nervous as when he'd first met her husband. "Now," she said. "In truth, my husband should be giving this to you, but he's never minded much and Minerva works with me much more often, so I'll be the one to ask. Do you accept this token of our house, and swear to honor and fairly serve our family for as long as you wear it?"

Ben swallowed, but the choice wasn't really an unfair one. Lendenwell already had his commission, which was as honest and fair a service as he had to offer. "I do, my lady."

"Then wear this in good health," she said, and looped the chain around his neck. He didn't feel any different with the little pegasus on his chest, but he supposed it was a good omen anyway.

Then Lady Lendenwell's face lit up in a smile and she said, "And you must call me Alice. Come now, let's have some fun."

Ben wasn't certain how to respond to such forwardness. The last time a woman had been as interested in him, he'd wound up pregnant with eggs, so he was a little anxious now. Tanya guided him back on the bed until he was leaning up against a small mountain of cushions, comfortably reclining with a good view of her ladyship unlacing her dress.

Tanya closed the first manacle on his wrist before he realized it, and the second followed while he wasn't sure if he was allowed to fight back, given that he'd just sworn honor and fair service and he didn't want to attack a woman. "Hey, now--"

"Don't struggle, please," Tanya implored him. "They're comfortable enough, but your wrists will be sore if you pull against them too sharply." She smiled and patted him on the cheek, and went to help her mistress undress.

Ben studied the manacles. They were leather, and they did indeed feel comfortable enough, but they were connected to iron chains which were bolted to the headboard of the bed. He had a little room to move but not very much.

When he looked up, Lady Alice was naked and climbing onto the bed, and he was shocked anew--her stomach was decorated with a large tattoo, stretching across her torso from the underside of her breasts down across her swelling belly. It depicted a rearing, snorting pegasus, in the green and red and gold of Lendenwell, fucking a blue and silver unicorn.

At Ben's astonished look, Alice explained, "My father's crest." She stroked her hand over the pegasus' rampant cock, which had been placed so as to swell and expand with her pregnancy. "I like Lendenwell much better."

"It seems to suit you, my lady," Ben agreed.

Alice smiled pertly. "I'm glad you think so. Now. How large were those eggs when they were put inside you?"

Ben stared. "Um... well. They felt maybe as big as a man's fist." He lifted his hand to demonstrate and quickly reached the limit of the chain.

Alice nodded sagely. "And have you ever taken anything larger?"

"Than that?" Ben grimaced. "No, my lady."

"Oh, lovely," Alice said. She clapped her hands together and nodded to Tanya. "Starting with the fifth, I think, and the next three. And I think we can assume the beginner progression for his prick."

Tanya nodded and turned to pull something out of a chest of drawers. Alice pulled at Ben's smallclothes until they slid out from under his hips, and she nodded appreciatively at what she saw. "Oh, lovely. I am looking forward to this." She reached out and cradled his stones in her hand and he moaned at the feel of her fingertips gently stroking their undersides. Then she gently wrapped her hand around his sack and slowly pulled down, until he could feel his skin stretching and a bolt of pain shot through him and up to his cock. He whimpered and shook his head and she relaxed her hand until it no longer hurt, and she made soothing noises and patted him on the thigh.

"Please don't," he said when he got his breath back.

She nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

The mattress dipped as Tanya climbed onto the bed beside them. She handed Alice a small case and lay a few shiny wooden objects down on the sheets. "Shall I begin, my lady?" Tanya asked.

"Yes," Alice said. She lifted up on his balls until he scrambled to get his feet underneath him to raise his hips, then relaxed and smiled at him. "Very good, that position if you please, dear."

"Oh," Ben said, suddenly aware he'd been manipulated.

Tanya picked up one of the wooden things. It looked a bit like the top of a belaying pin, with a handle on one end. She reached over and toyed with the ring of Ben's arse for a moment and her fingers were already slick with oil, and he realized where this was going at the same time he realized that the pin she was holding was already as big as a man's fist--and she had three others even larger sitting on the bed.

Her fingernails were longer than her brother's, but she was careful and her fingers slid inside him smoothly. It didn't take long for her to slide all of her slender fingers into him, and then to tuck her thumb close and push until he was spread open around her, knuckles stretching his sphincter wide. Ben bit his lip as she worked her hand in and out a few times, until his body had relaxed enough that the motion was smooth and easy.

Then she put the wooden pin to his arse and pressed and oh, it was like the bulbous tip of Lirube's cock, only larger, and it almost hurt as it pushed him open even further, burning stretch as he bore down and the smooth walls of the shaft sank into him.

"Very nice," Alice said approvingly. "That's a very good start."

Ben whimpered. It felt like more than a start, it felt like he'd been split open. The wooden cock was unyielding, unlike flesh; it was an alien sensation as Tanya started sliding it gently deeper and then pulling it partway out.

"How big do you think those eggs will get?" Alice asked conversationally. "I've never seen a mermaid egg, but Francis says they can grow quite large given the right environment. There are quite a lot of them in there, too."

"I lost count," Ben said weakly. When he concentrated he could still feel the individual lumps seeded through his guts, maybe ten or twelve of them, distending his flesh and settling deep inside of him. Tanya's thrusting gently rocked the eggs inside of him, but didn't reach deep enough that they were in danger. "I don't know how big. I hope..."

He would have put his hand over his mouth, but when he tried to move the manacle kept his arm in place. Alice put a hand on his stomach and asked, "What do you hope, darling?"

Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I hope... I hope I can take it?" he said hesitantly. "I hope that if the eggs do get bigger, I can handle it, that I can take whatever of those shafts you've got, that I can get them out of me even if they grow twice the size, three times, more--I hope I can hold all of them inside me and feel them growing bigger and--" he cut himself off and turned and pressed his face into his arm, ashamed and dizzy and terrified.

He felt a woman's hand in his hair, and he looked up to see Alice looking at him kindly. "I'm glad to hear it," she said. "You know, I was just as frightened of the things I wanted when I married Francis and came to Graystanes. I could barely speak of wanting anything, much less explain all the details. Tanya and her brother, they were in my service, and we had our games, but we weren't able to talk about it and we were frightened of hurting each other."

Ben nodded, anxious.

"But Francis changed all that," Alice explained. "You're safe here. You can let your wildest dreams run free. Do you know what I want to do to you, if you're willing?"

"No, my lady," Ben said.

Alice smiled. "Tanya, put in the next size while we're speaking."

Ben hissed as Tanya pulled the pin out of him, and before he could feel much relief, there was another, thicker pressure at his hole, stretching him even wider, like the blunt end of a wine bottle. Tanya worked it back and forth for what felt like minutes, teasing and pushing and wiggling, beore it finally spread him wide and slid into his abused body, and with a groan he lay back and tried to let go of the shame he felt at his own satisfaction.

"Mmmmm," Alice said. "You look so delicious spread open like this. With a little more work I'll be able to get both of my hands into you. Would you enjoy that?"

He thought about George reaching deep inside him to cradle the eggs in his belly, imagined Alice doing the same, and a flush of heat went through him. "Yes, my lady."

"I want to push you open as far as you can manage," Alice said. "I have as many of these as you can take. I want to press your flesh open until it rubs against bone." She presed her fingers to his skin where the massive wooden cock was pulling against him. "I want to see you with those eggs grown huge, I want to see you waddling under their weight, I want to feel them start pressing you open when it's time for them to lay and hatch. I want to find you afterward and just bend you over and slide my arms inside you up to the shoulder and feel all that lovely heat inside your body."

Ben shivered. "That's... not possible, surely?"

"I want to do it anyway." Alice said brightly. "And this." She held up the case that Tanya had handed her earlier. It was full of thin metal rods, thinnest at one end and thick as a man's thumb at the other. "Do you know what these are for?"

Ben shook his head mutely.

Alice selected the slimmest rod and pulled it from the case. She reached out her other hand and stroked Ben's cock, root to tip, and ran her thumb over the sweating crown, smearing his fluids over the sensitive flesh. He shivered and tried not to thrust and pull on the dildo inside him.

Then Alice reached over and put the metal rod to the tip of his prick and gently pushed it inside.

For a moment he couldn't even react, couldn't even understand the sensations, which were cold and strange, but as she ran her thumb along the underside of his cock and he felt the strange pressure radiating outward from inside his dick, he was able to understand what was happening. He was being stretched, again, in a way he never thought possible, and oh, some of those rods were half the size of his own cock, and hadn't she said something about a beginner set?

"I want to stretch this open, as well," Alice said as she slid the rod deeper and deeper. "I want to open you up until we're sliding dildoes into your prick. I want to open you up until Francis can fuck you." She grinned, and there was a feral brightness in her eyes. "His prick is skinnier than yours, but it's longer."

Ben shook his head slowly. "That's... that's got to be impossible. I can't possibly manage that. I'd..."

"I know why it should be impossible," Alice said. "I want to try anyway."

"Yes, my lady," Ben said softly. He threw his head back and let himself succumb to the sensation. "Yes, oh, yes!"

Tanya pulled the plug out of his arse and started him on the next one. This one felt like it pushed him open easily, but that was probably just because he was so eager for it--he cried out in satisfaction when it opened him up, bigger and bigger, surely large enough he could take both of Alice's fists or whatever else she wanted to put inside him. Alice took that as a signal to pull the rod out of his cock and slide the next one in, and he felt the stretch all the way down his prick, easing that tightest orifice just the slightest bit wider.

"Tanya, be a dear," Alice said, and he felt her release her hold and start climbing up the bed toward his face. He opened his eyes to see her, glowing like a goddess, arranging herself so that she could lower her fanny over his face. "All right, darling, time to see how well you can work."

She put her knees over his shoulders, so that she was facing Tanya and the work she was doing to his prick, and balanced herself forward on her arms. He could feel her swollen belly graze his chest, and if he leaned forward he could bury his face in her snatch. He pressed his nose into her cleft and breathed deeply of her scent, then darted out his tongue and licked.

Alice ground herself against his face as he tongued her, tasting her sour-bright-musky wetness, running his tongue over the soft patch of her nether hair and the slick folds of her skin. He found the button of her clit and lapped at it until she squirmed away, then tried tonguing as deep as he could inside of her. And all the while he had to stop at intervals and try to breathe as deeply as he could around the bizarre sensation of Tanya playing with his prick while there was something _inside_ of it, inside of him. The pole in his arse was almost normal by now, the dull ache of muscles stretched past bearing and the taut pressure of fullness. But the rod in his cock was fighting for his attention with the wonderful taste of his lady's Cyprian bower.

Tanya slid the next largest rod into his prick at the same time that Alice reached out to rub the swelling in his stomach and it was suddenly too much, all of the sensation came crashing down into his body and he started coming, screaming himself hoarse, clenching all of his muscles around the eggs and the wooden plug and the metal rod all inside of him all filling him to the brim, until he collapsed back onto the bed gasping for air and feeling the stickiness of Alice's moistness on his face.

"Oh, my," Alice said, climbing off of him. "Oh, that was well done."

Ben felt his prick twitch, a strange sensation with the rod still stuck down through it.

"I would have liked to have gone for one more but let's not push, we have plenty of time," Alice said. She reached up to unhook the manacles from Ben's wrists and his arms fell to the bed limply. "Why don't you just stay here and rest, darling, get some sleep, and we'll start again in the morning."

Ben nodded, and felt himself start to doze, vaguely aware of Tanya mopping at his skin with a cloth. She pulled the metal rod from his prick but made no move to remove the plug from his arse, and he found he didn't even really mind.

As he drifted away with Alice curled up on one side of him and Tanya on the other, he realized that as bizarre as it was, it felt strangely like he'd found his home.

* * *

Months passed. Winter filled the hills with snow and the bay with ice, and then spring came and melted it down again.

Ben awoke in his bed and stretched, carefully, trying not to shift too much on his stack of cushions. He'd started needing to brace himself by the middle of winter so he wouldn't move around too much while sleeping.

Over the winter the eggs inside him had grown, as promised. He felt them nestled like cannonballs in every spare inch of space inside of him. As he rolled himself upright from lying on his side he had to wrap his arms around the bulk of them, careful not to overreach, and clutch them into his spine.

He could barely stand, only carefully hobble toward the bathroom. Once inside he rested against the wall for a moment, then turned on the shower.

Ben had been standing under the spray for a minute or two when George poked his head into the room. "Do you need assistance?"

"Please," Ben said. George grinned and came around to help him with the enema nozzle. It took a long time for the water to force itself past the eggs, but soon enough Ben was swollen with eggs and water, somehow stretching a few more inches. It was the only way to clean himself out, now that the eggs had gotten so big, and George and Tanya had been helping him since he'd gotten so full he couldn't stand without using both arms to hold the mass of eggs up.

Almost an hour later, Francis came in to the bedroom while George was helping him dry off. "And how are you today, Ben?"

"Still doing well, my lord," Ben answered.

Ben was carefully sitting near the edge of the bed, his legs spread wide and his distended stomach pushing out and resting on the bed before him. Francis took advantage of his nudity and ran his hands over Ben's belly, humming happily. "You're glowing."

Ben laughed. "I'm glad I look so healthy. I feel like an old man."

He flushed with pleasure, though, as Francis passed his hands over him, caressing the swollen spheres through his skin. "I wonder how long we can keep you like this," Francis said. "Do you think you can wait another week? Another month?"

In reality Ben didn't think he could last another day, but he imagined letting the eggs grow for another few weeks and groaned as he leaned into Francis' hands. "Whatever my lord commands," he said.

Francis chuckled and helped Ben lean back and roll sideways. Ben's prick was hard and pushing firmly against the underside of his stomach, wedged between two of the eggs and already leaking. Francis pushed four fingers smoothly into Ben's arse and tucked his thumb into them, pressing until the widest part of his hand popped past the ring of muscle and into his body. Ben sighed contentedly as Francis pushed his arm deeper, in to his elbow, until he could wrap his hand around the first of the eggs inside of him. "Oh, yes." Francis said. "That's doing well."

"Oh," Ben said. "Good." He could feel the shifting, feel Francis' fingers and the egg rocking against all the others inside of him, a chain reaction of nudges and muscles reacting and shifts of position that put pressure on all different parts of his insides. The sensations had only grown stronger as the eggs pushed his guts wider as they swelled, magic and time growing them out of all proportion.

Francis pulled his arm back out of Ben's body and he moaned at the absence. "Well, well," Francis said, and reached down to cup Ben's stiff prick. "And does this want attending to?"

Ben leaned back as far as he was able and moved his legs out of the way. "Anything you wish, my lord."

"Mmm, that does sound like a pleasant invitation." Francis unbuttoned the front of his trousers and freed his own cock. "Let's try this, shall we?"

He started with his fingers, pushing at the tip of Ben's cock until it yielded to the pressure, flaring and widening. Ben gasped as the first of Francis' fingers slid into him, impossibly large in the narrow confines, and he reached down to feel from the outside the bulge pushing out the underside of his prick as it traveled down toward his balls.

One finger felt massive, two felt impossible. Ben nearly screamed as he felt his prick get forced open, skin stretching wide. He could feel his blood rushing through his veins and pounding against the invading digits, the rush of his pulse pounding through his cock as the way was opened up by Francis' fingers.

And then Francis pulled out his fingers and pushed the tip of his prick against Ben's, and after a moment the thick head of Francis' cock was pushing into him. It sank into the impossibly tight tunnel of Ben's prick, sliding slowly into him, until Ben could feel it pierce into his body, his own prickhead nuzzling Francis' nether hair.

"Saints and martyrs, that's always amazing to watch," George said from his perch on the bed.

"Mmm," Francis said, reaching down and lightly--very lightly!--gripping the outside of Ben's cock. Ben cried out at the sliding friction as Francis gently stirred in him, careful not to move too quickly. Ben couldn't see it but he knew his prick's underside was bulging obscenely as Francis thrust into him, faster now, sliding in and out of his gaping prick hole.

Ben came desperately, his balls forcing his seed into and around Francis' prick, smears of come easing his motions. As Ben's prick went soft Francis was able to step closer to him, and he started thrusting deeper into his body. Ben moaned as he felt his flaccid dick stretched wide and Francis' cock thrusting even farther into him. He could feel Francis' thrusts rattling the eggs and he whimpered in sympathy as the pleasure rolled through him, even though he wouldn't be able to come again any time soon, even though he was over-sensitive and the sensation was turning into pain. He clutched at Francis' body as his lord thrust harder and deeper into him and finally gasped out his orgasm, shooting directly into the depths of Ben's body before slowly pulling out.

"Oh," Ben said, cradling his cock. The tip was wide open and weeping come; he could dip his fingers into himself and feel the liquid squishing against them. He slid two fingers inside the weeping hole, relishing the sensation, then added a third to feel the stretch and the shivery feeling it gave.

"I'm so glad we're finally able to do that," Francis said, buttoning his trousers back up. "It's a unique experience, and I do so relish unique experiences."

"Thank you, my lord," Ben said. "And I agree."

That was when he felt something lurch, deep in his guts, quite different than the normal settling of the eggs that happened when he moved too quickly. "Um."

"Um?" George asked.

Ben put his hands on his stomach. "Something... happened." It was hard to explain, but he'd been living with the eggs inside of him for months, now, and this felt like a change. Almost as though they were sliding around inside him.

As though whatever had been holding them in place had stopped holding.

He looked up at Francis and half-smiled, desperately. "Well, my lord, to answer your question from earlier, I think I'd better get down to the shore."

George came with him, of course. There was a stretch of the bay on Lendenwell's own land, down an easy trail from the manor. Ben was able to take a cart with George driving, and didn't have to walk more than a few steps with the eggs jiggling and shifting inside him until he was knee deep in the water.

Once he got submerged to his neck, the support of the water was a massive relief. "I should have been swimming every day," he told George as the other man waded into the water after him. "This feels lovely."

"I'll have to remember that." George put a hand to the small of Ben's back. "Do you think your mermaid will show up?"

Ben shrugged. "I don't know. This isn't where I met her before. And for all I know she could be long gone."

They paddled in the water for a few minutes while Ben felt his inner muscles tense around the swollen eggs inside of him, marveling that soon it would be over and he'd be... empty. For the first time in months.

Suddenly there was a rippling in the water, the swift wake of something swimming past, and just ahead in the bay the head of a mermaid broke the surface. Ben gasped as he recognized Biruelle, just as etherially beautiful as when he'd first seen her.

Her face broke into a grin, pale eyes and slightly pointed teeth. "Ben! You are well!"

"I am well," he replied, feeling giddy. "I'm very well."

She swam closer, careful of the shallow seafloor. "And you have protection--for the eggs?" She poked at the pendant resting on his chest, bumping against him with the motion of the water.

"Ah, yes," he said, "For myself and the eggs as well. It's from Lord Lendenwell, I, er, well, I suppose I work for him now." George smirked at him.

"Hmm, good protection," Biruelle said, running her fingers over the gems.

"Biruelle, I want to introduce you to my friend," Ben said, taking George by the hand and pulling him closer. "This is George. He's been eager to meet you."

"Hello," George said, and he sounded slightly less certain than normal. "Ben's told me all about you."

"Hi," Biruelle said. She didn't seem enthusiastic. "Ben, the eggs are ready. Come with me."

"Ah, yes," Ben said. "Can George come, too?"

Biruelle looked briefly like she was pouting. But she shrugged and swam forward to come nose to nose with George. She reached up to cradle his face with her finny hands, and pressed her mouth to his.

George didn't struggle, but he looked a little bewildered when Biruelle took both of their hands and pulled them into the water.

Ben was slightly less sleek than the last time he'd taken this trip, but that didn't seem to matter to Biruelle, who dragged them both along with powerful beats of her long, eel-like tail. Down into the depths of the bay they swam, leaving the cool light overhead behind, until they were in the rocky, seaweed-sheltered bower that Ben vaguely remembered from his last visit.

Lirube suddenly loomed out of the shadows, causing George to--not squeak, never, but startle. "Hello, Lirube," Ben greeted him. "I'd like you to meet my friend George."

The merman swam lazy circles around the both of them. "Hello," he greeted George politely enough, but he picked Ben up and carried him to a bank of sand surrounded by rocks and coral. "Here, sit here."

Ben gingerly sat down on the sand. Both Lirube and Biruelle helped him drag his pants off as George found a perch near his head. The sand was sloped so that he could recline, and as he lay back he felt the eggs inside of him settle and shift and start pushing their way through his body. "Oh," he said. "Oh that--I think--"

George took his hand. "Feel free to crush my fingers. I understand it's traditional."

"Fuck you."

"Not until you can see your cock again."

Ben laughed until all of his muscles clenched and he bore down out of instinct, feeling the massive shape of one of the eggs settling low in his body. "Oh. Oh!"

It was almost a relief, to feel it sliding out of him--stretching him, wide enough that for a moment he feared he wasn't ready, all the work that Alice and Tanya had done preparing him wasn't enough--and then the oblong mass of the egg was pushing through his arse and out onto the sand and he was gasping for air. Water. It didn't taste quite like air but it let him breathe all the same. Biruelle cooed and patted his belly, and Lirube circled close above them, stirring the water with his tail.

It took a minute for the second egg to shift around in his body, but it slid out easier once it was in place. The feeling of the eggs scraping around his belly was making Ben shiver, though at the same time his instincts were screaming at him, get them out, get them out!

All in all it took longer to slide the eggs out of his body than it had taken to put them in, but not by much. There were twelve of them, a full dozen. Ben stared at them in baffled wonder when they were nestled in the sand beneath him, wondering how he'd managed to hold all of them for so long. His belly felt stretched and loose, his skin was tender and bruised, and his insides were out of sorts. He felt amazed and proud and ready to sleep for a week.

"Well done," George murmured, and Ben squeezed his hand gently.

Biruelle and Lirube circled the clutch, cooing at each other, as Ben gingerly got to his feet and pulled his pants back on. "Well. Thank you both," he said.

They seemed to notice him again then, and Biruelle swam back to him, wrapping herself around him and stopping face to face to plant a kiss on his mouth. "Thank you, pretty human," she said. "You did well, our clutch is so big, so strong! So close to hatching!"

"Uh, you're welcome," Ben said. "Lord Lendenwell took good care of me, so, uh... hey, are you going to do this again in the fall?"

"Yes, almost certain," Biruelle said. "The ocean is wide, there are many dangers. Best to have many clutches, many chances."

Ben swallowed and decided not to feel guilty that he hadn't gotten very attached to the eggs as potential children. "Well, uh, George was hoping he could volunteer next time."

Now Biruelle was pouting. "You are prettier."

That took him aback. He looked over to George, whose expression was hard to read. He was either amused or insulted or both. "I... think George is very pretty," Ben said.

George's expression didn't get clearer, but whatever mixture of emotions he was feeling, it certainly looked more intense.

Biruelle reached out and poked George in the stomach. "He's so pointy."

"Ahh," George said, as though something had been made clear. "Not enough meat on my bones?"

She shrugged. "It's just not as nice."

Understanding came to Ben and he grinned. "George, are you saying we need to fatten you up?"

"It does sound that way," George said. "I wouldn't want to give the impression that I'm not, ah, robust enough to carry a clutch to term."

"He's plenty robust," Ben told Biruelle.

Biruelle still looked dubious. "Husband? What do you think?"

Lirube swam closer and looked George up and down, then circled him slowly. "Without the pendant, I think I would break him," he said.

George drew himself up and looked Lirube in the eye when he came around again. "Why don't you try me _with_ the pendant?"

Lirube made a deep humming noise that thrummed through the water, then pounced.

The merman moved incredibly quickly. He wrapped his body around George's in one swift motion, trapping George's legs together and wrapping his arms around George's torso to hold them. George struggled briefly, reflex, then relaxed, arching his back into Lirube's chest.

Ben swam over and started unbuckling George's trousers. "Well, you asked for it," he said.

"Can't keep my mouth shut when it's good for me," George agreed. He sighed happily as Lirube's dragon-like tail squeezed his legs, and Ben pushed his pants down over his hips. "Ah, thank you--OH."

Ben couldn't see what was happening, but he remembered the sensation. George was more than ready for the girth of Lirube's cock, though, and he wriggled back against the merman with pleasure. Ben pushed George's shirt up his body, and after a moment he could actually see the bulge of Lirube's shaft working its way up George's belly under his skin. Ben reached out and rubbed it with his fingers and George groaned.

It was fascinating to watch as Lirube's dick wriggled, prehensile, twisting around the curvature of George's insides. As it worked deeper and deeper George groaned and twitched, his cock stiffening to attention and his front entrance leaking slightly pearlescent moisture into the water. Lirube seemed to have no trouble working his cock as deep as he wanted into George's guts, as the indentation of his prick stood out on George's stomach.

When finally Lirube stopped pushing deeper, George let his head loll sideways and jerked his hips up and down on the shaft, fucking himself onto the massive tentacle-like cock inside him. Ben grabbed on to Lirube's arms and pulled himself closer. "Hey," he said, tapping at Lirube's tail. "Can I get in on this?"

Lirube gave him a distracted look, then loosened his hold until George's legs were free. George stretched his legs back until he could clamp them around Lirube's tail, spreading himself open and holding as tight as he could.

Ben loosed his own cock, positioned himself, and slid into George's front passage. It was slick and tight, and he could feel the length of Lirube's massive prick to either side of his, the muscular tube pushing up and down George's body. George gasped and his muscles went limp, legs drifting briefly, and then Lirube lashed his tail around both of them, forcing their bodies together and slamming Ben into George's cunt balls-deep and tight.

"Fuck!" George cried.

"You told me I could," Ben said, then groaned as Lirube's cock twitched all around him.

He slowly started thrusting, grinding against Lirube's dick and enjoying the tightness and the way George was shuddering with every move he made. Then Ben felt finned hands gently cradling his hips. "Having so much fun without me?" Biruelle asked.

"Sorry, darling," Ben said.

Biruelle laughed. "Don't be sorry, just share."

Ben was going to offer to turn around when he felt her organ at his backside, and realized that she probably got as much enjoyment from practicing the act of mating as anyone else did. "Please," he offered, and then sighed as he felt her slide home inside him.

Without the eggs, Biruelle's organ was soft and fleshy, but it pushed deep and filled him just the same. It pulsed and wriggled as she rocked into him, and Ben squeezed around her and let her push him into George's tight snatch. George was keening softly with every motion Ben made and grinding back into him, body clenching. They couldn't move much, they were all four of them too tightly entwined, but every move was a cascading ripple of sensation. George's body was burning hot against his and Biruelle slightly cool, the water shifted them back and forth against each other while Biruelle and Lirube used their fins and tails to thrust into them from both ends.

George came first, grabbing Ben's hips and grinding against him, crying out and clenching tight enough that Ben tipped over a second later. He could feel Lirube shuddering slowly in his own drawn-out climax, and Biruelle worked herself into him until she sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Good?" Ben asked.

"Mmm, nice," Biruelle agreed.

Ben reached back and patted her fins. "So do you like George?"

"Oh, I suppose," she said good-naturedly. "If my husband likes him, I do too."

Lirube sighed and George moaned as he finished pulling his cock out of George's arse. "I like," Lirube said simply, then unwrapped himself from the two of them and swam slowly over to the resting clutch of eggs.

Biruelle giggled and swam forward to kiss George, then Ben. "It was a good time," she said. "I'll take you home, now."

After a swift passage to shore and what felt like an eternity coughing water out of their lungs, Ben and George lay side by side on the beach, letting the water drip from their clothes for a moment and catching their breaths.

"Excited for this autumn?" Ben finally asked.

George laughed. "I think more of that might kill me. But yes." He turned to Ben and grinned. "What about you? Sorry you're not going to get another turn?"

"Mmmm, no, I've had enough excitement of that sort for a while," Ben said. He reached over and lay his hand on George's stomach. "I can't wait to fuck you while you're full up with their next clutch, though. How many eggs do you think Biruelle can shove inside your sloppy arse? Think you can beat twelve?"

"Fuuuck," George said, shivering. "We'd better get home so someone can fuck me again. I don't know how I'm going to last the summer at this rate."

Ben grinned and hauled himself to his feet, amazed at how different he felt, how empty. He'd more or less promised Biruelle and Lirube's next clutch to George, but maybe there were other merfolk out there...

He spent the entire drive back to Graystanes tingling with anticipation, wondering what the rest of the summer would bring, only certain that it was going to be more than he ever thought possible.


End file.
